


It Can't Hurt to Know a Good Tailor

by ArtHistory



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ass Play, Belly Kink, Feeding, M/M, Rimming, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: My first fic with some original characters, set in the Dragon Age: Origins universe. I have always loved Desire Demons, so please enjoy!





	It Can't Hurt to Know a Good Tailor

The correct thing to say was that it started innocently. That was the way these sorts of delightfully kinky tales began, wasn’t it? That an innocent shop clerk with a penchant for baking and a not-so-hidden fetish finds a noble knight with sweet tooth and a terrible metabolism and the two innocently stare as his perfectly tight, toned waist swells and rounds until the knight is as fat as the royals he protects and his ass is large enough to entirely smother the shop clerks handsome face as he tongue-fucks said knight’s perfectly fattened ass on their shared, queen-sized bed, wedding bands glittering in the shining sunlight floating through the windows of their sudden mansion.

But such happy endings so rarely occurred.

And such clerks were rarely so innocent.

Especially when they were mildly demonic.

Desire Demons weren't supposed to be able to crest new life, but if a human man’s, or woman's,  subconscious, secondary desire in fucking a Desire Demon was indeed to have children, the Desire Demon could, within a week of the...interaction, find themselves awakening in the Fade with a tiny, humanoid mortal in their arms.

All the fun, seductive charm of a Desire Demon without the danger of one's body and soul being owned elsewhere or the Deus Ex Machina powers of gold-and-power-creation at will. The essence of a Desire Demon filtered into a mortal form.

Desire Demon Lite, as it were.

Said offspring were swiftly dropped at the doorstep of the human that had so-clearly wanted child, occasionally with a note offering their soul back if they didn't let the spawn starve to death until it was old enough to meet its Fade-Bound second parent.

Even less occasionally did the demon simply raise the child on their own. But Bram’s “mother” had found the tiny, gurgling creature in her arms to be adorable. And having a tiny, big-eyed mortal in ones arms made the Chantry much more likely to accept a new-convert looking for shelter. And Chantries were simply fabulous places to find being in the most need of corruption.

And so Bram was raised by a demon in a house of Andraste. Preachers, priests, and Sisters of Andraste were usually itching for a good fuck, so Bram’s mother was remarkably well-fed. 

The way to mans cock was through his stomach, at least that's what his mother had told him. 

Ironically, Bram was much interested in investigating the opposite, and found it just as true.

Bram considered his actions to be the lightest shade of evil. Not the soul-snatching, murder-hungry side of evil - no - just the temptation-placing, alluringly hedonistic side of evil. The seafoam of naughtiness that caused tight, toned knights to unbutton their trousers for more reasons than one. The kind of sweet debauchery that turned battle-toned warriors into soft, fat-bellies war-room advisors. A few treats, some soft words, and the occasional blowjob was enough to swell the abs and asses of any eager adventure.

So when Bram Temperance Highchurch, Denerim's finest tailor, set a tray of tea and cakes out for his clients it wasn't out of business-based friendliness. It was a test.

The teacakes were fragrant, warm in the nose and on the tongue with spices one could often place, but not name. They were generous, easily the size of one’s palm, and numbered at a dozen each and every time.

And every client ate at least one.

Eating three teacakes earned a chuckle and a comment on how they must have enjoyed them.

Eating six earned a gentle pat to the client’s stomach, a gauging tease to see just how much of a reaction that touch earned. 

Eight earned a few lingering touches, a heavy emphasis on measuring the waist, the hips, and the offer a free, second fitting in two months time.

So when the fucking Hero of fucking Ferelden ate all twelve of the offered treats, Bram had to excuse himself to the back of his shop to calm his pounding heart and throbbing cock.

The Hero was an elf. And a notably delectable one at that. A tight, toned torso framed with muscular pecs and a frankly illegally round ass. Grad A Dalish Beef.

So when Bram re-entered the inviting front room of his shop he made sure the heat of the crackling fire behind the Warden mixed with his deep voice to fill the room with warm honey. He laid his free hand over the Warden’s tanned one as he shook it. A subtle bite to his lips as he met the Wardens eyes. His own lips, not the Wardens.

Not yet.

He spent an unnecessary amount of time measuring the fit hero’s bloated waist, his meaty ass, his broad chest.

“I'm so grateful for all the Grey Wardens have done. If you'd be kind enough to allow it, I'd be appreciative enough to offer a gift. Would you have time to return to the shop in seven days time?” He'd nearly purred, meeting the elf’s eyes over his muscular shoulder in the mirror, both of his hands resting on the hero’s waist.

The Warden nodded.

Bram had damn near teleported over to Herren and Wade’s, imploring the men who'd helped him afford the shop in the first place. Herren, an old friend of Mother’s, had signed with such force when the Hero of Ferelden was mentioned Bram thought he might actually deflate. Wade had, in between bites of the cake Bram had innocently brought over, mentioned the elf’s affinity for knives. Herren had added the hero’s affection for lizards, pushing Bram back through the door between their two shop, adding

“And stop trying to fatten up my husband!” Before slamming the door.

He immediately re-opened it, all smiles when Bram offered a rather large sack of coin in exchange for a lizard-engraved knife.

The Hero of Ferelden had gasped, beamed when the blade had been offered one week later, after eating another platter of tea cakes, of course.

Additionally, he'd fucked the life out of Bram against the mirror, both he and Bram's eyes flicking to the hero’s obscenely overbloated middle as it bulged excitedly towards Bram's lower back.

The tradition of teacakes and a good fuck continued on a weekly basis, then turned bi-weekly when Bram introduced more sweets and the Hero of Ferelden bloomed a delightful set of caramel love handles, then every-other day when Bram offered a handsome, enchanted ring in recognition of their six-month “anniversary”...fuckiversary?, and the Hero’s enormous, elvish ass split his second pair of trousers.

And so this time, when the gorgeous, much heavier elf entered his shop, his eyes went wide at the massive display set up where normally two, cozy chairs and a mirror sat.

Bram, in all his masculine bravado, smoothed out of the darkness, endless candles and the shop’s roaring fireplace casting shadows throughout the room.

“We've been dancing around this for too long.” Bram purred, his long legs and tight, round little ass swaying as he crossed the room, drifting his nimble fingers along the length of the table. Cookies, fresh pies, cakes and more filled it to bursting. Bram scooped a generous fimgerful of frosting off the closest treat, sucking it from his finger with a *POP*.

“We both know your ass didn't double in size accidentally, that those meaty pecs were innocently magicked to tits.” Bram said, the Hero of Ferelden pressing back against the closed door as he moved across the room, sucking in a breath through his teeth as Bram hiked up the Warden’s shirt, letting his pot belly eagerly bloated outwards over his trousers, eagerly stretching out into the open air.

Bram bunched the fabric in his fist, guiding the hero towards the table, reaching behind him and grabbing a large, golden goblet of bubbling, purple liquid.

He held it before the Wardens eyes, his own finding the elf’s over its rim.

The Warden took it.

He drank it down.

Bram grinned.

Both their gazes flicked downwards as the Warden’s belly unnaturally roared.

The Warden’s eyes widened, hurrying back up to meet Bram’s. Half panic. Half arousal.

Brimmed grinned wider. He reached around and gave the elf’s meaty ass a solid *SLAP*

“Go on, piggy, dig in.” 

The Hero hesitated for only a moment, looking from his potbelly to the endless sea of lardy treats before him. 

Then he dove at the buffet like a wild animal.

His tan cheeks bulged, Adam's apple bobbing as the elf grabbed at fistful after fistfuls of cookies and slices of pie, crumbs and streaks of cherry filling flowing down from his handsome lips and onto his-

Well his now more-than-generous tits.

Bram was behind him in an instant, rock hard cock pressed between his own tight, toned abs and the softening small of the hero’s back, both his hands filling with a generous handful of the elf’s breasts, breath hot on the back of the man's neck before his teeth began to nip and explore the hero’s rapidly softening jawline, fingers drifting upwards to pinch and wobble at the Wardens sudden double chin.

The Warden only moaned, grabbing a full handful of chocolate cake, feeling his meaty ass swell as he crammed it between his lips. His tight trousers split at the seam, gut breaking open his shirt as he leaned further into the table, rest on the fine oak surface, knocking aside empty plates as it continued to rumble and swell.

Bram fell to his knees, mouth eagerly finding the Wardens massive, tanned as, cheek pressing to the ocean of caramel cream, deep voice rolling out a whimper as his hands framed it, squashing those enormous cheeks together and watching, feeling them wobble and quake.

“Andraste you're getting big.” He panted, stunned breathless as the elf's ass continue to grow beneath his hands, handful after handful of sweet lard bloating out the Warden’s now-mountainous gut, his ass, his tits.

The table creaked.

Bram’s nimble fingers found the tear along the Hero’s trousers and pulled, shredding the already ruined trousers and freeing the elf’s oceanic ass to spill out into the open air, his thick cock slapping into his overflowing gut. Bram didn’t have to bother with the Warden’s shirt, the elf’s rapidly fattening back busting it open as the seams, enormous love handles spilling over his sides as he now gorged himself nude against the table, plump, greedy hands reaching out to grab more and more sweets.

Bram purred, spreading the elf’s cheeks and slowly exploring the walls of the Warden’s arse with his tongue, teasingly pressing against the elf’s hole. He grinned as the Hero shivered, giving that fat ass another *SLAP* and diving back in, slowing working that hole open before-

The Hero of Ferelden gasped, moaned around a mouthful of chocolate biscuits, frosting-stained hands steadying himself on the table. He shook, wiping said hands off on a nearby napkin - can’t have himself be filthy at a time like this. His gut growled, and after wiping his lips the hero dove back in, fighting back huffed, puffed yeses before-

The elf came with a deep, desperate below, his gut relaxing in full, spreading out around his monstrous cock, staining his underbelly with his ecstasy.

Bram purred as he pulled back, watching the now-mountainous elf collapse onto the table with a purr.

He covered the Hero’s wide, endless ass with soft kisses, whispering worshipping words about the man’s size, his appetite, wobbling those perfect cheeks before rising, leaning over to pepper the Warden’s back with affection.

There would be some explaining to do about why the Hero of Ferelden - a lean, strong elf - was a mound of caramel blubber. 

But that sounded like a problem for another day...


End file.
